Of Fear and Needles
by CatCunning
Summary: Kitty had always hated shots. Musings on the Cure. One-shot.


Cat: So, I felt like I owed Kitty some depth since she was such a great character in the comics and she was just a teary-eyed homewrecker in the movie. So here goes. This takes place during that little bit where the X Men are on the jet heading to face Magneto at Alcatraz.

Disclaimer: It's not mine, cross my heart and hope to die, stick a needle in my eye.

She was going to Alcatraz Island. There had never been any question about that. She owed it to the Professor. Besides, someone had to protect Bobby. And it wasn't as though she was afraid of Magneto or the Brotherhood. Regardless of Magneto's threats, Kitty knew they would balk at injuring another mutant. Any second of hesitation and then she'd be safe—intangible and uncatchable.

"_Woot!" Kitty was screaming as she dashed among the simulated debris. Storm shot her a silencing glance but Logan was giving her an approving thumbs up. The Sentinel's footsteps crunched behind her, but what did it matter? The slow metal couldn't get anywhere near close enough to catch her._

_She turned, zigzagging to join her teammate and to throw off the machine. Piotr unnecessarily knocked a chunk of rubble away from their heads as Kitty grabbed his wrist. She had to take two steps for every one of his, but she was keeping up. Her heart pumped and the gravel churned beneath her. The air was warm from the explosions and her body radiated with its own heat, but Colossus' hand was cool under her fingertips and the wind rushed past her ears. She secretly hoped that they would be in class for a long while. _

No, what she was maybe a tiny little bit nervous about was the humans. Or, not really the humans per say. Rather, she was hyper-conscious of their fear. They had The Cure in _guns._ Which they would then proceed to spread over the entire battlefield indiscriminately. After all, in their minds anyone they would want to protect wouldn't be harmed by the needles.

Would it hurt? Would it feel like a bullet or a knife—a sharp projectile at such a high velocity _must _inflict at least a little pain. Or would it be more insidious then that, hurting no more than a mosquito bite? Would anything about it feel like a regular shot, or was it something completely different—the product of fear and hate.

Kitty had never liked shots of any variety, and this, in a slightly twisted way, justified that dislike.

"_Kitty, you have to try to stay solid." Dr. Grey said patiently as her fingers slipped through the Shadowcat's arm. Kitty was trying, honestly, but it was hard. Just the thought of someone sticking a little tube in her arm and then shooting it full of dead things gave her the shivers. Never mind the fact that it was only dead influenza bacteria. Or maybe that knowledge only made it worse._

_But she had nodded and then resorted to an old control tactic—reciting the 47 Presidents in her head. She had felt the needle's prick at only John Quincy but continued to recite all the way through Chester Allen Arthur. By then she was safely out of the blue and silver lab and back in warm mahogany hallways and hadn't needed help to remain together. _

Kitty had read up on The Cure. She'd been through two doctors' reports and the blogs of seven mutants who'd had the shot. They had all admitted to convulsions and sensations ranging from "mild tingling" to "tiny electric shocks." None of which sounded too bad. But then she'd read Mystique's testimony. She had been the only one of them who wasn't eager and anxious for The Cure, and also the only one whose powers affected her from head to toe, like Kitty's. And the metamorph had described a feeling akin to the electric chair.

While she was sure that Mystique had exaggerated at least somewhat, she couldn't help but think that it must be excruciating to have every single one of your molecules soldered together. Especially if those molecules were straining to separate.

Even if it didn't hurt, Kitty decided, it would still be the most horrible thing to ever happen to her. It wasn't that she wouldn't be special anymore—she'd still have her brains and then she'd go off to a career so successful it would make three-quarters of Americans jealous. And it wasn't that she wouldn't have any friends. Bobby would still like her, and so would Piotr. In fact, she couldn't name a single person in Xavier's Institute who would suddenly start hating her just because she was involuntarily pricked.

But she would be afraid again. After getting over the initial terror of waking up from a nightmare in the basement and discovering that she wasn't born human, Kitty had come to rely on her powers. True, it wasn't exactly necessary for her to phase through doors rather than walk through them, but they made her safer than everyone else. In all of their Danger Room sessions Kitty had never had more than a scratch.

"_Another concussion, Bobby?" She couldn't help but laugh. Rogue tightened her grip on his hand protectively, but Bobby just grinned sheepishly. Kitty continued laughing. "Don't those questions ever get old?" _

"_You mean, 'who's the President?' and 'what's today's date?'" he guessed. Kitty nodded. "Not really." He answered teasingly. "After all, we just elected a new President and the date keeps changing." He had smiled his trademark Bobby-Smile and Kitty had flushed with laughter and with warmth. _

Without her powers Kitty would be vulnerable again, and so would everyone near her.

And so Kitty sat very very still in the X-Jet. Bobby was restless across the aisle from her, but she kept her eyes heavenward. She prayed silently, in English and in Hebrew and in Japanese (just for good measure).

She was struck with the sudden desire to phase—falling downwards as far as possible. So far, that maybe she'd fall out the other side of the world. Which, of course, was a completely irrational desire because if she phased out the bottom of the jet she'd certainly fall to her death. Besides, traveling through the Earth was entirely impossible due to the molten magma under its surface.

So instead she just slowly phased one arm through the armrest of her seat. Her molecules delighted in the freedom.

Cat: Please review!


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